A Perfect World

I will not name the government agency where much of this story takes place. I left the agency several years ago, but I still have friends there, hence the caution. Names of the people involved have also been changed, of course, but other than that, this is what really happened.

I know that it can be foolish to trust memory to accurately relate events from eleven years ago, but I can recall these particular experiences with a vividness that can still steal my breath. I've also had the advantage of being able to compare notes with the other person who was so intimately involved with these goings-on. For the purposes of this story, I'll call her Cindy and myself, Jennifer. I'm going to begin my tale in mid 1998, so let me describe what I looked like then: a 5'6" twenty-six year-old with brunette hair cut stylishly short. I've been told often enough that I'm beautiful and when I see the way men look at me, I believe it must be true. Though I had recently had a baby, a good diet and strict exercise routine helped me to regain my pre-pregnancy figure quickly. My breasts were full and surprisingly perky, and I had shapely hips and legs that I was proud of. But, if I'm any judge, I think my strongest physical asset was my smile.

At any rate, it was in June of that year that I first learned of my husband James' hypothyroid condition. We had been married for three years, and up to that point James was mellow, had a bubbly sense of humor and stayed in excellent physical condition.

He was conscientious regarding his diet and went to the gym 4 or 5 days a week for vigorous workouts. In fact, the gym is where we first met. I had been attracted to and turned on by his wonderful physique since the day we met.

But, in June of '98, I gave birth to our first child and around the same time, James began to put on weight, despite his remaining faithful to his diet and exercise regimen. He was only 29 at the time, so you could hardly blame it on "middle age spread". Besides, the changes weren't only physical ones. James' easygoing personality began to be replaced by erratic behavior and frightening mood swings.

As the pounds piled up and James' conduct worsened, I finally convinced him that he needed medical help. This is how we found out that his thyroid gland had essentially ceased functioning and that he would be required to take medication for the rest of his life.

Reading and adjusting thyroid levels is not an exact science, however. The medication slowed the weight gain and took the edge off his behavior somewhat, but I never got my husband back. The man that I married was gone forever.

I could have handled his weight gain. After all, it's not as if I expected the two of us would remain young and beautiful forever. My husband was very attractive, but I didn't marry him for his looks. And, I probably could have eventually wrapped my head around the loss of our sex life. A dramatically reduced libido is one of the many unfortunate symptoms of hypothyroid disorders. I've always had a healthy sexual appetite, so it made the adjustment difficult, but I don't think impossible. No, the hardest part to deal with was the personality change. The disease replaced my charming, energetic and romantic husband with a tired, irritable man who sometimes flew into raging tirades at little provocation.

As you can imagine, it was exhausting caring for a baby with a partner who required as much patience as the child. So, after three months home with the baby, it was with some relief that I went back to my federal job. For one thing, the change in environment was a welcome relief. I had a good deal of work to catch up on and that didn't leave me much time for wallowing in self pity. Another, more important benefit was that I would once again have the regular company of my closest friend and confidante.

All that I've recounted so far has been painful to recall. Here, at last is a subject I can warm to:

Cindy.

I met Cindy when I first came to the agency in 1993, so I've known her a year longer than I've known my husband. We hit it off immediately and soon became inseparable, almost always spending our lunch hours and coffee breaks together.

Cindy has a contagious exuberance and a quick, ready wit that often had me convulsing with laughter. Her statuesque beauty and flirty manner have turned many a head in our building and outside of it on our frequent lunchtime excursions. Let me give you a picture of her to carry you through the rest of my narrative: Cindy is two years older than I and about 5'8" with a wonderfully rounded voluptuousness. Her complexion is a glowing coffee with lots of cream and a smattering of faint, cinnamon freckles. Her hazel eyes often glimmer with mischief and her smile lights up her face and any room she's in. To top it all off, dark, lustrous mid-length hair frames those lovely features.

Now after that lavish physical description, you might assume that I had a crush on Cindy. But, to be quite honest, I was not attracted to her so much as I admired her. But, you would, after all, have to be blind not to see how stunning she is.

Cindy also has a generous, caring nature, quick to offer a helping hand or a sympathetic ear. I told her in my first couple of weeks back at work some of what was going on with James and I, but I was reluctant to dump too much in her lap. Besides, a part of me felt like I was betraying my husband by divulging our marital woes. So, while Cindy had the general impression that I was miserable, I hadn't yet related too many details.

On September 16, 1998, that changed (keep reading and you'll see why the date is so firmly fixed in my memory). Cindy and I had gone to lunch that day as we almost always did. I'm afraid I was distracted, depressed and generally poor company. She tried her best to snap me out of it, but I could only manage tepid smiles in response to her usual banter. On the way back to work, we walked the first couple of blocks in silence when she leaned close and broke my reverie, "You know, I'm really beginning to worry about you, sweetie."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Cin! I realize what a drag I must be today. I... "

"Don't you dare apologize! With everything you've had on your plate lately, it's a wonder you're not comatose. When we get back, I want you to come on down to my office. We are gonna have an overdue heart-to-heart."

"Look, Cin, I really appreciate the offer, but... "

Cindy stopped in the middle of the lunchtime crowd on a downtown street and turned me to face her. Her hands went to my shoulders as she looked me earnestly in the eye and said, "Hon, you just don't get it. I'm not gonna accept 'no' for an answer. I don't care what work is waiting on your desk or mine. I've known you long enough and care about you deeply enough to take the liberty of insisting. You've been walking around with the weight of the world on your shoulders and if you don't unburden yourself soon, you're going to collapse."

With that, she took my arm in hers and steered me back to our building and her office. Once we were inside Cindy's office, she locked the door, pulled the guest chair close to hers and gestured for me to have a seat. After I was settled, she scooted closer, took my hands in hers and quietly spoke, "Talk to me, hon."

I felt a welter of emotions swirling in me with no idea how to begin expressing them. After a moments hesitation, I tried to speak, but all that came out was a wracking sob. And boy, oh boy, once the floodgates opened...

With my vision blurred by tears, I saw a look of concern on Cindy's face. She stood up and pulled me into her arms. My head rested on her shoulder and I cried like a baby. Cindy's left arm encircled me while her right arm soothingly stroked my back. She murmured in my ear, "It's okay, sweetie. Let it all out. Take as long as you need. You're safe here."

God, I can't tell you how much I needed exactly that. With all that had been going on, I hadn't realized how long it had been since someone simply held me; since I felt loved. And Wow! Didn't I feel enveloped in love just then.

It was strange, though, that as my tears subsided, I began to be aware of Cindy's subtle perfume, her warmth under my hands, in my arms and pressed against me, the swell of her breasts just above mine. I mean, we had hugged many times before, but this was different.

As this heightened awareness permeated my senses, Cindy pulled back slightly and cupped my face in her hand, asking, "Feel any better, hon?"

That's when it happened.

I looked in her eyes, closed the small space between us and pressed my lips to hers.

Now, I have no reason to lie to you here, so believe me when I tell you that before that moment, I had never seriously considered another woman sexually or romantically. But, just then, I felt so loved, so wanted, I just responded reflexively.

Our lips touched for only an instant or so when Cindy stepped back out of our embrace. Surprise and confusion were written on her lovely features. She was obviously groping for the right words to say and failing miserably.

I started to babble like an idiot, "OhGodOhGodOhGod!!! I am SO SORRY, Cin! PleasePleasePlease forgive me! I never... "

Cindy gathered herself together and cut me off sharply, "Jen. Stop it. Please. There is nothing to forgive. You are my dearest, truest friend. If a simple kiss were to ruin that, it would break my heart. So, let's just calm down, okay?"

We both sat down again, visibly shaken. After a moment or two passed, Cindy looked up at me and asked with a forced smile, "So... where the hell did that come from?"

I buried my face in my hands, "Cindy, I swear I didn't mean to... "

She interrupted me again, "Please stop apologizing. I meant what I said. I love you with all my heart and I won't let something like this drive us apart if I can help it. I hope you feel the same."

"Of course, I do!", I replied breathlessly. It's just... just... "

"Yes?", Cindy queried, "'Just, what?"

"God, I already feel like such a fool, Cin. Please don't make me say."

Cindy leaned forward and took my hands in hers again. "You should never feel like a fool with me. You can tell me anything. You know that don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then?... ", she gently urged.

My hands were still in hers, but I looked down while I talked, "I, um, it's just been, you know, so long. So damned long since someone's touched me... held me... made me feel loved and wanted."

Cindy's hand stroked my hair, encouraging me to continue, "I've kept such a tight lid on things for fear of losing it, that I hadn't consciously realized just how desperately lonely I'd become."

"Not to mention desperately horny." Cindy chortled.

We both giggled nervously at that.

"Yeah, I guess I am, at that. Kinda hard to deny it, huh?"

"So", she said impishly, "If I give you another hug, will you promise you won't try to rape me this time?"

"Bitch", I quipped.

"Dyke", Cindy countered.

At that, we both dissolved into peals of laughter.

When we calmed down, Cindy stood, pulling me to my feet as well. She opened her arms and drew me to her. I found the courage to speak in earnest again now that I wasn't looking directly at her. Anxiety ran through and through me. My voice quivered with tension, "Like I said, it seems like forever since James and I last made love. He doesn't even try to touch me anymore. When you took me in your arms, it felt so wonderful. That loneliness responded to your embrace, the horniness responded to your caress... and with all the emotions that were already roiling in me... I... I reacted without thinking."

"Jen", Cindy smiled and held me at arms length to look at me, "I completely understand. And believe me, if I was into women that way, I'd be all over you right now. But, as gorgeous as I think you are, and as wonderful a person I know you to be, I'm just not attracted to women sexually."

She held my face in her hand again. "If you let something like this cause you to act differently around me... shyer, embarrassed, walking on eggshells... I would be truly crushed. I want you to promise me you won't let that happen."

"I promise."

With that, Cindy gave me a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the bottom and told me I had better scram, at least until lunch time tomorrow. She was expecting her boss to knock on her door any minute now to drag her off to an afternoon-wasting meeting.

As you can probably imagine, the rest of my afternoon was not particularly productive.

If you've also guessed that my night was sleepless, you get no points for clairvoyance. I mentally replayed the afternoon's events on an endless loop, fluctuating between extremes of humiliation and horniness.

I knew Cindy was sincere when she said she did not want that day's incident to change our relationship. I didn't doubt her generosity of spirit for an instant. Yet, I couldn't help wincing in vividly recalled embarrassment each time I realized anew that I had actually made a pass at my best friend! What I wouldn't give to have that moment back!

The problem is, though, that if I undid the day, I would also lose the time I spent in her arms. And God help me, that span of time was haunting my night.

James had taken to sleeping in the guest bedroom across the hall in recent months. He had fallen fast asleep there around ten that night. The baby and I were in the master bedroom. I had the queen-size bed all to myself while the baby slept soundly in the crib next to it.

For the better part of an hour, I had been tossing and turning across that broad, empty mattress. Images from the day forcefully chased sleep away.

God damn it! What was wrong with me!? If, just a day before, someone had told me I would be mooning over... no, lusting after another woman, I would have laughed at the very idea. I knew I was no lesbian. I enjoyed the company and sexual attention of men far too much for that.

If I was honest with myself, though, I had to admit (but, only in the solitude of my own thoughts) that I had, on occasion, felt a twinge of attraction for another woman. But I'd never given it much thought and I'd certainly never pursued it.

Until now.

What was different? Cindy, of course. I think I had fallen in love without my noticing it.

What a mess I was. It was nearly two in the morning and I was no closer to sleep than when I first got in bed. My nipples were straining against my pajama tops and the bottoms were absolutely sodden.

I knew what I wanted; what I needed: release. I had masturbated often enough, but never with a woman as the object of my fantasizing. But, if I was going to surrender to this, there was no point in doing it by halves. If I couldn't have Cindy during the day, I would at least make her mine at night, in the privacy of my own heart.

I got up and locked the bedroom door. Slipping out of my night clothes, I sprawled across the bed. Silvery light from a three quarter moon came through the window and set my nakedness aglow. My eyes closed and my breath quickened in anticipation. It had been far too long since I had an orgasm at my hands or anyone else's. I was going to luxuriate in this.

Memory tangled with imagination and raw need to conjure Cindy there in the room with me. Weren't those her arms enfolding me again? Couldn't I feel her soothing caress on my back? Was that the soft skin of her cheek pressed to mine? I was sure I caught the scent of her perfume in the air. And the warmth of her body clasped tightly to mine.

Tracing the line of my jaw down to the curves of my throat, I imagined the touch belonged to Cindy. Moving each hand to the other side of my body, fingernails raked across my collarbone. I stroked my shoulders and down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. My already engorged clit twitched impatiently.

I moved my hands to my breasts and cupped them at the sides. Lavishing them with the attention they ached for, I massaged, kneaded, and caressed them. My index fingers slid upwards to circle my areolae, which had tightened with anticipation. When I finally grasped my nipples between forefingers and thumbs, a current of electricity shot through me, forcing me to gasp aloud, "Cindy!"

My mind's eye invoked a vivid image of her suckling at my breast. I rolled my nipples between my fingers and scraped them with my nails as if they were her teeth. Waves of tingling, pulsing pleasure cascaded over me as I stroked those nubs up and down, up and down, over and over.

I could have come easily just from the attention to my breasts. But I was feeling greedy that night. I was holding out for a truly spectacular orgasm.

My hands left my aching bosom and slid down my torso. Every nerve was keyed up, on fire, as my head swam with images of Cindy. Past my navel, fingers traveled of their own volition, nearing the heart of my fire. I brushed through my pubic hair, feeling the sensitive mound of Venus beneath my fingertips. My breathing quickened as I (or was it Cindy's hands?) spread my legs.

I slowly drew my thumb and forefinger up the fleshy sides of my outer lips. This pushed the inner lips of my cunt together, causing warm liquid to weep from them. The middle finger of my other hand (Cindy's tongue) split the slick furrow of my sex. My muscles tensed involuntarily, and I caught my breath.

With a shallow delving, my digit gathered a silky smoothness that I spread over my inner folds. I began an exploration of my swollen labia that sent stronger spasms radiating through my body. My fingertip worked in slowly, knowingly. Wet sounds tangled with my ragged breathing to break the late night silence. Then, scooping deeper than before, I collected a finger full of that slippery dew and held it up glistening in the dappled moonlight. Taking the richly coated finger deep into my mouth, I tasted my lust.

Anxiously, I returned my hands to my sex, knowing I couldn't keep from cumming much longer.

Thrusting two fingers into my sopping pussy with one hand, I coaxed my clitoris from beneath its hood with the other and was rewarded with a gush of lubricating nectar. My sticky digit tormented the sensitive bud.

I felt another shock of desire and moaned aloud. I was very close to eruption.

My fingers from one hand were working furiously on my clit now, and the fingers of my other hand slid in and out of my pussy while I arched my torso.

I let anticipation build, every sensation nearly too much. I was on overload, pushing, pushing, pushing toward my limits and then backing away.

Mewing with delight, I began to gyrate, making the bed springs squeak. My hips jerked in the air, and I shut my eyes, lost in bliss, hyper-aware of the sounds my sopping cunt was making as I fingered myself.

This pushed me over the edge. A dam broke and pleasure overtook me like a flood. My body convulsed violently in the throes of the most shattering orgasm I'd ever experienced. Pulsing waves of ecstasy shot through me, their power amplified with every thrust of my fingers. My thighs shuddered as though electrified and liquid flowed out of me, puddling on the bed. Whimpering and gasping at the sheer intensity of sensation, I nearly passed out when, at last, it began to subside.

My hips collapsed on the bed and I calmed down, though my sex still twitched. I was wrung out; like a rag doll.

As the sounds of my panting stirred the air, I realized that I had just driven myself into a sexual frenzy while fantasizing about my best friend.